


Virgin Boy (Red Lipstick)

by viscrael



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, F/M, Fluff, human vantases, sex and virginity, succubi megidos, vampire maryams
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:37:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1859976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viscrael/pseuds/viscrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time you met her, it was at a bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Virgin Boy (Red Lipstick)

The first time you met her, it was at a bar.

It’s not like you went there of your own volition or anything. It was Porrim’s idea, actually, to take you out on your birthday. She thought it would be “good for you” to get out and “let loose.” Never mind that you’ve never drank alcohol in your life, nor do you plan to, and never mind that you hate bars. Porrim had good intentions, they just didn’t pan out in a correct manner.

So you ended up going anyway, if only to get your adopted sister off your back. Her, her sister Kanaya, and her mother had adopted you and your brother Karkat as children, so you’ve grown up like real siblings. She acts more like your mother than your sister sometimes, though you aren’t sure what mother, in her right mind, would encourage her child to go out and get hammered on their birthday. To each their own, you suppose.

Everyone ended up going out with you; Latula, Aranea, Rufioh, Cronus, Mituna. Cronus was hitting on Porrim, Aranea off talking with a girl she’d just met, Rufioh nowhere to be found, and Latula and Mituna where participating in some, ahem, rather racy PDA. You really weren’t sure why Porrim had invited those two to YOUR birthday party. After all, Porrim knew about your less than ideal infatuation with Latula, and therefore your unwanted disdain in seeing her and her boyfriend together. It was a cruel thing to torture you like that on a day where you were supposed to be celebrating your birth.

“You are sad,” a voice, thick with some sort of Asian accent, spoke from next to you.

You jumped and turned around in your seat at the bar, having not expected there to be someone else around. The girl you turned to see was blonde, busty, and seemingly very pleased with herself. The way she’d said it—”You are sad,”—so sure of herself, like she knew more about you than you did…it angered you. Who was she to say that to a complete stranger anyway?

“I beg your pardon?” You calmed your quickly beating heart and took a sip of your glass—just water, of course.

“You are sad over pretty girl,” she elaborated in broken English, nodding her head towards Latula and, coincidentally, Mituna as well.

“Excuse you,” you said, setting your drink down and facing her fully, “Whether or not I am upset over a ‘pretty girl’—which I am not, thank you very much—is none of your concern and I find it very rude of you to just make such brash assumptions about someone with whom you’ve never even spoken. I don’t even know who you are!”

“I am Damara,” she said, grinning widely, showing off white, perfect teeth framed by bright red lipstick. “You are Kankri. That is Latula, and you are sad from her.”

Now you were starting to get a little freaked out. “Alright, hold on just a minute—how the HELL do you know my name?! Or Latula’s, for that matter? And how do you know that I—”

“Quietly, sweater boy. You do not want others to hear about liking for her, do you?”

That shut you up, at least for the moment. She was right, infuriatingly enough, but that didn’t stop you from asking more questions,

“Alright, so I won’t ask about her, but that still leaves the answers for why you know my name—or rather, HOW?”

“It is birthday, correct?” She asked patiently, and waved the bar tender over.

“Um. Correct,” you answered, watching as she interacted with the man.

“Bloody Mary,” she said, leaning forward so her shirt dipped down and showed off her chest. You saw the man glance down before saying something about it being on him, and he went off to make it. She smirked, pleased with herself, before returning to you.

“I am here for a birthday gift,” she said, still grinning widely, but it seemed more malicious than before, and you were suddenly a bit scared of her.

“A…birthday…gift?” You asked cautiously.

“Mhmm.” The blonde hummed, nodding. “Gift. Sent from Porrim.”

You sighed, mumbling under your breath, “Goddamit, what is that girl up to this time? Why can’t she understand that I don’t wish to partake in any of her ridiculous—”

“Oh, this one you like, she promise.”

“Well, fuck, that makes me feel SO much better.”

Damara received her drink, paid the man, and turned back to you, leaning against the counter casually. “Do not worry. I promise you will too.”

“I don’t even know you, and what could Porrim possibly have—”

“Do you not know what I am?” She interrupted you, seeming confused that you were still talking, and even more confused that you didn’t realize what she was, apparently.

“You’re a strange woman whom I’ve never met until just now, that Porrim evidently sent to—”

“I am a demon,” she answered nonchalantly, tasting her drink. “Japan branch, but I make special home calls on some time.”

You blinked twice, confused for a moment, before narrowing your eyes at her. You’d heard of demons of course—hell, Porrim and her sister where of the same general mythical group, and Cronus dappled in the magical arts—but you’d never met one, and you weren’t sure what that had to do with your “gift.” “Alright, Damara, what are you getting at?”

“Sweater boy, you are very clueless. Very innocent. It is cute,” was her only answer, smirking into her drink before keeping her mouth busy with said liquid and not saying anything more.

“What? How in any way am I ‘innocent’? I hardly think that’s a good adjective to use in this current situation. Besides, you could perhaps fix my so-claimed ‘cluelessness’ by telling me what the hell is going on and why it’s relevant that you are a demon!”

Damara sighed, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair from her eyes. “I am succubus.”

More blinking on your part, and then it dawned on you. “So, you’re a—?”

“Sex demon,” she supplied, that smirk seemingly ever-present.

“W…why would Porrim send a s-sex demon to me as a gift?!”

“It is your birthday. How old are you?”

“22, why? How old are you, may I ask.”

“I lose count long time ago. Last real client in 1993—gets boring. Porrim wants you to have fun, wants you to enjoy self on birthday. I can help you get rid of feelings for Latula.”

“Couldn’t you try to be a little bit quieter in saying that?” You snapped, frustrated and uncomfortable and just a little be anxious. “And no, drowning myself in the temporary affection of a…succubus will do nothing to dull my feelings for…you know.”

She frowned, seeming to not know what to do now. “Hmm. Well. I must do SOMETHING before leaving you. Until you have sex with me, cannot leave you.”

“God fucking—fine! That’s fine by me! I just. Don’t want to…I am abstaining from sexual intercourse or relations right now, as I have feelings for, um, you know. Leave me alone right now, please, and let me enjoy my birthday.”

She raised an eyebrow before nodding in understand. You turned away from her to have a sip of your water and calm yourself down. When you go back to give her apologies, her seat was empty.

* * *

 

The second time you met her was while you were at one of Karkat and Kanaya’s play practices a few weeks later.

“Sweater boy’s brother looks the same.”

She seemed to have a habit of scaring you, because you only jumped worse than the first time, though you immediately turned to her and scowled. “Is there any chance you could refrain from sneaking up on me, please? Some people are deeply triggered by that, you know, and I—”

She rolled her eyes, dark brown and rimmed in black eyeliner. “Yes, yes, I know, triggers and other things that do not concern me.”

This made you frown, but you refrained from saying anything else on the matter, as she scooted towards you on the bleachers where you sat, her hand suddenly on your chest and face much too close to yours for comfort.

“But, sweater boy, if you let me, I could find what triggers you.”

Your face was red, completely, entirely red, and your poor virgin dick reacted similarly to the rest of you. She noticed, moved a hand to your thigh, and laughed quietly.

“W-what are you doing here?” You asked, keeping your voice down so no one else would notice what was going on with the two of you.

“I told you. I cannot leave until we have sex.”

Your frustration with the events caused your dick to calm down, thankfully. “Oh my god.”

She nodded. “I need to leave. Have sex with me.”

“Are you—are you out of your mind?! We’re in a public place, not to mention it’s the gym of a high school where my little brother and sister, as well as their classmates and other school faculty, are trying to rehearse for—”

“Alright, alright. I understand; it is not best time. Fine. I thought since you were alone. This might…be easier time for you.”

You calmed yourself down enough to register her words. “I’m free plenty of other times. You didn’t have to choose while I’m in a public school to ask if we could…um, you know.”

A corner of her red lips quirked up. “Virgin boy does not like the s word.”

“Sh-shut up! That’s not it. It’s just…we’re in public, and someone could pass by and hear us, or a parent or guardian around us could…”  
Damara wasn’t listening anymore. She only moved closer to you, till her lips were right next to your ear, and whispered, “Does it make you uncomfortable, saying that we should have sex right now?”

You didn’t think it was possible for you to be this red, but here you are, and you jumped about three feet in the air, causing a few bystanders to turn their heads towards you momentarily in fleeting curiosity, before turning back to watch the rehearsal, thankfully. You moved away from her and covered your face, burying your embarrassment in your sweater’s sleeves. “Please, Damara, what did I say about personal space?!”

“Why is little sweater boy in this play?” She asked suddenly, not even paying attention to you and your embarrassment anymore, her eyes trained on Karkat as she watched him grudgingly stand around. He clung to Kanaya, his dark hair sticking up wildly as if he hadn’t brushed it in a while—which you knew he hadn’t, you would talk to him about taking care of himself when you got home—with his hands shoved deep in the sleeves of his dark gray sweater as he refused to look anyone in the eye.

You blinked. “Well…Miss Dolorosa wanted him to get out more and interact with other peers and teenagers his age, so she suggested he join his school’s play with our adopted sister, Kanaya, who is his age as well. Unfortunately, he just ended up staying with her the whole time and cursing out anyone who so much as tried to speak to him.” You sighed. “It’s very impolite of him to do so; I should probably have a talk with him about correct ways to socialize…”

“As if you are shining example of socialize, sweater boy,” she teased, giving a small, halfhearted grin, but her eyes stayed on the children on stage. After a moment of silence, she frowned and spoke again.

“It is sad,” she said.

“Hm?”

“It is sad,” she said again, “that little sweater boy must be like this. He doesn’t like it. He doesn’t like other students.”

“You’re very perceptive.” You tried to train your eyes on where hers stayed, but been as you did, you couldn’t find anything particularly sad or expressive about the scene before you. She continued to stare and continued to think. A few minutes ticked by with neither of you talking.

“I am not perceptive,” she spoke up suddenly, after long minutes of awkward silence. “I am just not oblivious. Karkat is sad, therefore it is sad. I have to leave.”

With that, she was gone.

* * *

 

Meetings continued like that, with her showing up at seemingly random times just to ask if you would have sex with her yet. You always said no. You never wanted to, and as annoying as she was, constantly being around, you didn't find it worth giving up your virginity. You would continue to put off the event until you couldn't put it off anymore, and even then you'd procrastinate some more. You weren't ready to have sex, even if you were 22 years old and attending a local college and successful in all other aspects of life. You just weren't ready.

Damara was consistently understanding with your decision though. She never complained, never continued to bother you once you'd made it clear that you did not wish to have sex with her at that particular moment. She would show up, make a snide remark, ask if you were ready yet, and once you said no, she would stick around to bother you with other things or hold a conversation or tease you about your fashion choices before disappearing again. To where she disappeared, you had no idea, but you never asked.

The two of you began to learn a lot more about each other as the days spent near went by. One month and she knew pretty much your entire life story, although from you spewing essay after essay about it or from observing your home life as she popped in and out of the house, literally, you weren't sure. It took you three months before you figured anything significant out about her as a person.

You found that she's been in the succubus business for around two thousand years, roughly (she didn't remember entirely), but most of her fame was back in the 1200's in Japan and some areas of China, but since then she still took "house calls" to areas of Europe and, once the U.S. was established, quite a few in that region too. Not so much in Mexico or South America, she said. Her business started dying out around the early 1900's, but she said she'd never figured out why. You, she said, might very well be her last real client before she retires her "job" entirely.

How do you retire from being a demon, you asked, and she smiled like you were so naive it was cute, and told you it wasn't important. You had a sick feeling it meant dying.

And then you started growing attached to her, to her condescending grins and red lipstick. She was harsh and protective and rarely showed any real emotions. The few times you saw her actually express real, human (demon?) emotions made you worry for what had turned her so cold. What could've made such a sweet girl become so brash and hard?

It was some time around midnight during summer break when she finally told you. She'd appeared next to you as you laid on the grass outside of your house, staring at the stars like someone from one of Karkat's movies. Damara made a comment about it, but it only made you smile a little and tell her you were surprised she was here at such an odd time. She shrugged, said you seemed free enough, and proceeded to ask if you would have sex with her. You said no, just like she knew you would, and went back to looking up silently. She did the same.

Then she started talking.

"I am not like this all the time," she said, not looking you in the eyes. "I used to not be like this all the time, at most."

"You mean 'at least'?" You supplied.

She nodded in thanks and, presumably, agreement for your correction. She seemed to have been getting better with her English, as you'd been helping her recently. Apparently this was one of her first jobs in a long time where she'd had to speak English often.

Anyway, she kept talking. "When I was...when I was very young, I had a lover. And I was very kind, and very quiet. A very quiet girl."

"What happened?"

She turned to you and looked you dead in the eyes. "Love happened. And he cheat on me, and I was still loved him."

For a moment, you didn't know how to respond, only choosing to look away, blinking, and think about that for a moment. Once the moment was up, you furrowed your eyebrows and responded in a quiet voice, "I'm so sorry, Damara. I didn't know that..."

"Please, do not keep talking," she said suddenly, snorting, and seemingly back to her old, condescending self again. "I only tell you because you spoke me a book about your self. Figure you should know a small bit of me, since I am stuck with you for however long."

"I am sorry about that," you said. "I'm just not ready for..."

"I get it," she said, and grinned, although it looked a little fake. "Virgin boy wants to stay virgin boy."

You scoffed and looked away, face heating up, but you hoped she wouldn't see in the dark. "I'll have you know, I find that to be very offensive and would appreciate it if you could refrain from constantly referring to me with such rude and condescending nick names, which would also include—

She snorted and then there were lips on yours and you didn't know what to do, you were so shocked, you just sat there and let her kiss you, not responding but not pushing her away. And when she pulled back, she smiled genuinely, her voice soft and authentically sweet, "Shut up, sweater boy."

 


End file.
